


i can never look away

by tamquams



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Post-Canon, Underage Drinking, except is there even a drinking age in ketterdam? who knows? certainly not me, the point is they're drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:34:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquams/pseuds/tamquams
Summary: “Oh, merchling,” Jesper sighed in Wylan’s ear. “You are so lucky to have me.”Wylan’s fingers skimmed the ivory keys of the grand piano lightly. “I know,” he said genuinely, not even looking up. “But why today?”
Relationships: Jesper Fahey/Wylan Van Eck
Comments: 14
Kudos: 128





	i can never look away

**Author's Note:**

> hi y'all! all i have to say is basically this was the first chapter in a multi-fic work i posted in like, november, and then deleted three chapters in because i didn't like it. in retrospect, this chapter didn't completely suck, so i'm posting it again as a solo ficlet. i might post the second chapter as a separate ficlet, because the second chapter didn't totally suck either, and there really wasn't any plot. anyway, i hope you enjoy!

“Oh, merchling,” Jesper sighed in Wylan’s ear. “You are so lucky to have me.”

Wylan’s fingers skimmed the ivory keys of the grand piano lightly. “I know,” he said genuinely, not even looking up. “But why today?”

He wasn’t quite sure when Jesper had entered the room. The Zemeni wasn’t nearly as stealthy as the Wraith, but he was good at being quiet— that was, when he wanted to. Perhaps his entrance should’ve scared the boy a bit more, but in all honesty, there wasn’t much about Jesper that _could_ scare him these days, no matter what the deep flush of his cheeks might say when they so much as brushed hands. 

He felt his boyfriend drop down next to him on the piano bench and watched as he reached out one long finger to press down a key. _Boyfriend,_ Wylan thought to himself, already feeling his ears turn a light shade of pink. _What a word._ It had been just a week since the auction, since their victory. One week they’d been in that house. One week they’d been _boyfriends._ Wylan hadn’t even been the first to suggest they use the label. He figured it was too juvenile, too committal for Jesper. But it was Jesper himself who had announced to a roomful of Dregs at The Slat just a few days ago, “Farewell, friends! I’ve had a charming few years staying here with you all, but now it’s time that I join my lovely mercher boyfriend in a house that _isn’t_ built at a forty-five degree angle! So long! No mourners!” Yeah, okay, maybe he had also referred to Wylan as his sugar daddy more than once to random strangers on the street that evening. But the important part of the story was this: _boyfriend._

Speaking of boyfriends, Jesper was looking at him now with a mixture of mischief and impatience in his deep brown eyes. He must’ve asked a question, but Wylan was too busy reminiscing to catch it. “Sorry,” he said after a moment, a hint of embarrassment on his slender face. “What was that?”

The Zemeni rolled his eyes exasperatedly. “Wylan, dear, please try to keep up. I _said_ that I was visiting the Slat today, as I am apt to do, and I got to talking with Anika — she really is sorry about beating you black and blue, by the way — and she told me that most of the gambling houses are still shut down, what with the plague scare, and since I’m gone there’s nobody _fun_ to play cards with anymore, so I thought, well, I’ll humor her, I’ll just play a few rounds for her sake, of course—”

“Oh, Jesper, no,” Wylan interjected, but Jesper didn’t pause.

“But she just seemed so _excited_ to play, and I mean, after everything, I thought I deserved a little bit of fun, so a few rounds turned into a few more, and of course the stakes got higher, because where’s the fun in a low-stakes game—”

“I’m not seeing how this is lucky for me yet.”

“Patience, dearest. Well, suddenly, the door to the Slat opens and who was standing there but Inej? As soon as she sees me, of course, she gives me that disappointed Inej look we all know so well—”

“Inej has a disappointed look?”

“Okay, the disappointed Inej look that _I_ know so well. It’s like when someone says ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed.’ Terrible. Horrible. Makes you feel the lowest of the low. So I told Anika I had to go, but she begged for one last round, so I obliged her. One last round.” Finally, Jesper paused, staring at Wylan as if to make sure he had his undivided attention.

“And?” Wylan prompted after a moment.

Jesper grinned. “And I won.”

Perhaps he should’ve smiled back, or even jumped with joy, but instead the younger boy just raised an eyebrow. “How’d that happen?” 

Jesper narrowed his eyes slightly. “Law of infinite probability. _Anyway._ Ask me what I won.”  
The corners of his mouth quirked up. “What did you win, Jesper?” Wylan asked.

A bottle appeared in Jesper’s hand, seemingly out of thin air. He held it out toward the younger boy, who grasped it with both hands to take a better look. He couldn’t read the label, but he had spent enough time in the Barrel to recognize the clear liquid. “Vodka?” he asked, looking up.

The older boy nodded sagely, his eyes still glinting. “Very expensive vodka,” he confirmed, taking the bottle back. “I also won some money, of course, but who cares about that?”

“Kaz would,” Wylan said without thinking.

“Well, yes, Kaz would,” Jesper said, rolling his eyes again. “But Kaz is not here. And neither is Inej.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I asked her to spend the night at the Slat to save you the embarrassment of anyone other than me seeing you drunk.”

“Drunk?” Wylan repeated. He smiled despite himself. “Who says I’m getting drunk tonight?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course,” Jesper said, a rare touch of tenderness to his voice. “But I thought, what type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t offer you the chance to get really, properly drunk for the first time?”

There was that word again. _Boyfriend._ It made Wylan tipsy before the seal could even be broken on the bottle. His traitorous cheeks reddened as he swiped a hand through his copper-toned curls thoughtlessly, turning the proposition over in his head. He only had to think for a moment to come to a conclusion.

“Let’s do it.”

In the week since he had taken control of his father’s estate, Wylan had only made a few drastic changes. A lot of the paperwork was still processing, as the city was still on lockdown, so couldn’t carry out all of his plans, but the restructuring of the family’s staff was something he could do on the first day he had been home.

All things considered, the Van Ecks had more servants than they could possibly need, and they were all overworked and underpaid. This was the first of his father’s multitude of sins he would find himself rectifying. Hours were cut and wages were raised, but no employees were let go. He could more than afford to pay them all what they were truly worth without firing anyone, so he would, even if he really didn’t need so many cooks and maids and gardeners. They were all good people with families to support, and so long as Wylan could employ them, he would.

They definitely did not all need to live in the Van Eck manor, however, so he gave them the choice. Most of the workers with families chose to move back in with their children and spouses, and many of the single employees decided to remain in the house. 

When the servants had finished their work for the evening and headed either for their homes in the city or their quarters on the manor’s third floor, Wylan finally allowed the bottle to be opened— in the kitchen, of course. There would be no alcohol in any room that contained plush carpeting, expensive art, or prized instruments. 

“Have the first sip, merchling,” Jesper said, sliding the bottle toward the younger boy. They were on opposite sides of an island counter, Jesper leaning on the marble countertop and Wylan perched on a tall wooden stool. 

The bottle was heavy in his grasp. He lifted it to his mouth carefully, daring a glance over at Jesper, and had to pause when his stomach began to do backflips when he saw the way the Zemeni was staring at his lips.

“Wait,” Wylan said, cheeks burning. He put the glass bottle down lightly, careful not to let the clear liquid spill. “Kiss me first.” 

Jesper shot him a lopsided grin. “Your wish is my command, dearest,” he said, and in a heartbeat he was beside Wylan, reaching under him to grab the stool and turn it till they were facing each other. And then his stead hands were on Wylan’s neck, so tender, so warm, and then he was kissing him, and oh Ghezen, who needed vodka when Jesper Fahey’s mouth was _right there_?

Wylan’s fingers splayed against the front of his boyfriend’s shirt, balling into fists with the fabric bunched between them unceremoniously. One of Jesper’s hands found its way into the other boy’s hair, tugging lightly on the buoyant curls, and neither of them were prepared for the moan it elicited from the younger boy. He could actually _feel_ Jesper shudder, and then suddenly the warmth was gone from his lips, and the room was spinning, and Jesper was looking at him like he was a royal flush. The only thing that stopped him from blushing deeper was that it was physically impossible.

“Saints, Wylan,” Jesper said breathlessly, rubbing his neck absentmindedly. “I’m tempted to forget the liquor and put this privacy to different uses.”

Wylan grinned wickedly, an expression reserved solely for evenings alone with Jesper. Maintaining eye contact with the other boy, he grabbed the bottle off the counter and took a huge swig.

The motion was meant to be confident, mischievous, _hot._ Instead, he would settle for not the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. The clear liquid looked so harmless in the bottle, easy enough to mistake for water if you weren’t paying attention, but the way it burned going down was a completely new sensation and one that Wylan would be happy to never feel again. It took every ounce of strength he could muster to keep himself from spitting it out, but there was nothing he could possibly do to prevent tears from springing to his eyes. In the end, he considered it a success that he didn’t outright choke to death.

“What’s wrong, merchling?” Jesper asked as Wylan swallowed the last of his mouthful and wiped a pale hand over his mouth sloppily. “Not what you were expecting?”

The blond simply shook his head, letting the bouncing of his curls answer the question rather than attempt to string together a coherent sentence. Should the alcohol have hit him this quickly? Somewhere in the back of his head, a warning bell went off, but there were much more important things in the world to pay attention to, like Jesper’s mouth and the way he winked as his lips parted to take a shot himself.

He definitely handled the drink with more tact than Wylan had, but the bar was quite low. The Zemeni swallowed quickly and scrunched his face up, then drank again, repeating the process. He passed the bottle back to Wylan, who just stared for a moment before remembering, _Oh, I’m supposed to drink._

So, drink he did. One mouthful. Another. Was the room still spinning because of the kiss or was that the drink? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. His boyfriend reached for the bottle and Wylan slid it out of reach, his lips curling into a sharklike grin that greatly resembled the look Jesper got just before doing something particularly troublesome. 

“Let’s play a game,” Wylan heard himself say, slender fingers still wrapped around the neck of the bottle. He tapped the glass with a fingernail, some inconsistent staccato beat escaping him. 

“A drinking game?” Jesper asked, leaning forward slightly. “I’m intrigued, merchling. What do you have in mind?”

Hm. He hadn’t actually considered what the game would be when he suggested it. “How about…” The rhythm of his finger on the bottle increased in tempo. “How about I drink, and you kiss me?”

Jesper let out a light laugh. “That’s not a game, that’s just my idea of a perfect evening. Gimme that bottle.” 

The older boy took one more shot, then corked the bottle and stood up. “That’s enough for tonight, my love,” he said, reaching up to place it on a shelf out of his boyfriend’s reach. “I think we’re both perfectly drunk now, and as much as I love having my hands in your hair, I don’t really want to spend the rest of my night holding back your perfect curls while you get sick in the toilet.”

“That’s fair,” Wylan said, although it came out more like “Thass fair.” He wrinkled his nose at the way his words slurred, the syllables sloppy and unfamiliar. “That,” he corrected himself, paying special attention to the second ‘t.’ “That is fair.” 

Suddenly, a warm hand was in his. “Dance with me,” Jesper murmured, pulling him gently from his seat. “Let’s dance.” Wylan stood, stumbled, caught himself on the older boy’s chest. Looked up at him with those cerulean eyes, those ridiculous eyelashes. Wrapped his pale musician’s hands around Jesper’s neck.

Arms captured Wylan easily, hands spread protectively across his back. He didn’t realize his feet were resting on Jesper’s until the taller boy began to sway, holding the blond against his chest, humming a tune unfamiliar to Wylan but warm and comforting and happy, so happy. 

“Jesper,” Wylan whispered a while later, when the music was all gone and his eyelids were drooping comically.

“Let’s get you to bed, merchling,” Jesper said before Wylan could even ask. They separated just enough to walk, and the older boy half-carried his boyfriend up the stairs and into the guest bedroom they had been sharing for the past week. As they passed through the doorway, Wylan took up humming what he could remember of Jesper’s tune, clumsy fingers trying and failing to unbutton his shirt.

“Let me,” said Jesper quietly, nimble fingers slipping beneath Wylan’s hands and swiftly unbuttoning the shirt himself in seconds. 

“Could you…” Wylan shrugged the shirt off, letting it hit the floor uncharacteristically. He stifled a yawn. “Could you get my belt, too?”

Oh, the comments Jesper would’ve made just a few short weeks ago, the challenge that would’ve glinted in his eyes, the new shade of red that Wylan’s face would’ve turned. But there was none of that here, not now. There were no sarcastic comments and no wandering fingers as Jesper gently removed the belt and Wylan gracelessly stepped out of his trousers. He collapsed into the bed, fatigue overcoming him quickly.

Jesper removed his own clothing less awkwardly than his counterpart, then climbed over the boy to his spot on the far side of the bed. Wylan could feel the mattress shift as his boyfriend turned this way and that, seeking out the most comfortable angle, and when he finally seemed to settle into one spot, the blond wriggled closer to him, seeking out his warmth.

The last thing Wylan thought before sleep took him was _So this is trust._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you liked it! as always, you're more than welcome to come interact with me on tumblr, i'm @wespers :) p.s. title comes from daylight by taylor swift!


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